Caerimonia
by Won'tSayI'mInLove
Summary: Schuyler Van Alen is nothing like Mimi Force. And the one thing they have in common makes living with the other unbearable. Blue Bloods, continuation of Masquerade, probably Jackyler
1. Luxurious Prison

**A/N: FYI, this is set after Masquerade, the second book in the Blue Bloods series. There's probably gonna be a lot of ****Jackyler, to tide fans over until Revelations comes out. Remember to r & r!!!!**

Schuyler Van Alen groaned as she fell onto the rich, silk-covered bed. The pillows puffed around her, swallowing her inside an avalanche of soft velvet and tassels. She shoved some aside, onto the gleaming marble floors, until she could at least see. The canopy swirled around her, but it didn't soothe her at all. It actually irritated her. A lot.

Any girl would have felt blessed to be living in this room, but Schuyler felt like she was in jail. No, jail was a paradise compared to this, to Schuyler. The walls were painted pink, with delicate white crown moldings on the ceilings and white panels to match around the lower half of the walls. Each panel had a painting of some delicate flower on it. Old paintings of dead people dressed in elegant dresses and old-fashioned suits decorated the room's upper walls, with all their pretentious gold-framed glory. The ceiling was paneled in the same way as the walls, only it had the panels around the edges of the ceiling like an oversized version of the gilt frames on the walls, and the middle depicted a blue sky with fluffy white clouds. A grand crystal-covered gold chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling, illuminating the room with warm light.

Prison. Pure, fluffy, pastel-colored prison.

Her luggage, all three pieces of it, was sitting in a corner. They were torn, dirty, and covered in duct tape. She and Oliver Hazard-Perry (her human Conduit, familiar, and best friend) had used the silvery tape to put KO-ed smiley faces on the black suitcases and Schuyler was simply too lazy to take off the tape. In all, her luggage looked out of place in the exquisite, pastel-themed bedroom as Schuyler felt. She longed for home.

Charles Force had adopted her, probably just to spite her grandfather, and now she was stuck living here, in an ultra-exclusive three-story Manhattan apartment, with Jack and Mimi Force. It was their parents' place too, but they weren't ever home. So it was like she was living with just the Force twins.

Not that she minded living with Jack. It was living with the gorgeous Mimi that would kill her. Mimi was the personification of the popularity stereotype, with her blonde hair, thin figure, and long modeling resume. Schuyler was the Goth stereotype, with purple-y black hair and an almost nonexistent modeling resume (she'd done only one Stitched For Civilization ad, but that was all). The girls had nothing in common, and the one thing they did share (a great liking of Jack Force) made living with the other simply impossible.

Which was why Mimi would probably kill her before the end of the week. Vampires were immortal, but still. Mimi had her own ways to get what she wanted, and Scuyler was sure Mimi wanted her dead.

Schuyler's dark thoughts were interrupted by her phone ringing. She answered it, somewhat reluctantly.

"Hullo?" she groaned, not recognizing the number flashing across the caller ID.

"Schuyler, babe! You're a hit! Stitched For Civilization wants you for a follow-up ad, Louis Vuitton wants you for a print ad, Target wants a commercial SERIES, Coach wants you for their perfume ad, and Teen Vogue wants you for their September issue!" Linda Farnsworth practically screamed into the phone.

Linda was Schuyler's self-proclaimed agent, and a somewhat lousy one at that. She'd booked an unenthusiastic Schuyler for the Stitched For Civilization billboard, which ended with Mimi being even more spiteful.

"I booked you for the Gucci ad, because it's very limited. They asked a lot of other models, in a sort of first-come-first-served way. Ever heard of Nicole Kidman? Yeah. You beat her too it." Linda paused, and Schuyler could hear her fingers flying across the keyboard.

"Um…Great?" Schuyler said, unsure of what was happening.

"Oh, and darling, you're posing for the ad with a male model. A Duchesne student, too. Maybe you know him?"

"Who is it?" Schuyler wondered, more to herself than to Linda.

But Linda answered anyway.

"Jack Force."


	2. Apocalyptic Princess

Mimi Force groaned. It had happened again. Another flashback to her marrying Jack, or whatever name he'd had then. She wore a long, beautiful white gown that looked like it was covered in crystals. A golden tiara had been perched on her head, a ring being slipped on her finger. The white roses had been swirling around them, with the Eiffel Tower somewhere in the distance, shown through the floor-to-ceiling window among the lush green trees.

Normally, the perfection of this scene would have been comforting to Mimi, but now it just reminded her of how everything should have been. Should, not was.

Stupid Schuyler. That girl could go die, for all she cared. She'd stolen Jack from her, and worst of all, she wasn't even pretty! To have her living in the same house was pure torture for Mimi. Schuyler was sleeping in the very guest bedroom Mimi was going to use for her "Girl's Nite In" Sleep Over next Saturday! Where was she supposed to have it now?

She studied her own bedroom, with its pale marble tiled floors, lavender-painted walls (with the white paneling on them, of course), elegant crystal chandeliers, ultra-high ceiling that depicted the Angels departing from Paradise (her father and Gabrielle were front and center, naturally), and the expansive sheer length of it. She gazed at the walk-in closets, the separate bathroom, the small mini-gym, and the sitting room.

Hosting the bash in her room was out. There was simply no room!

She stood and stretched lazily, yawning as she lifted her arms over her head. She turned and stared at the wall to her left, eyes seeming to see straight through the wall.

_Jack?_

_Hey, Mimi_, he sent back. _What's up?_

_I had another flashback. We got married in Paris!_

_Oh, really? _Mimi could almost see the smile on his face. _Was it nice?_

_Of course, sweetie. It's Paris! We had paparazzi, or whatever they had back then, absolutely swarming us! It was so sweet._

_Sounds cool. Was it the Red Blood ceremony or the Blue Blood ceremony?_

_Both. We had the Red Blood ceremony first, then we had the Blue Blood ceremony while we were "on our honeymoon."_

_Oh…_

Mimi rolled her eyes. Why was he so unenthusiastic? It was their wedding, after all. As the Angel of Death, practically the reigning queen of the Dark, and one half of the Apocalypse Twins (her brother was Abbadon, Angel of Destruction, drawn to the Light side), she shouldn't be having these problems.

It was all that half-blood's fault. Even if Schuyler had saved her, Mimi felt no obligation to be nice. Mimi was Azrael, after all, and only Azrael could decide who died.

As if she'd actually chose to kill herself?

She sighed and stood up, making her way into his room. She pushed open the door and sighed. He was sitting on his bed, but he stood up when he saw her.

She walked over and entwined her fingers in his, before whispering, "I give myself to you."

That was it. The Blue Blood ceremony. All he needed to do was say those sacred words back to her…

"Mimi, no," he said. "It's not right for us now."

Mimi yanked her hands away. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, at this age. We're supposed to wait until 21, aren't we?"

"Yeah, well, we were supposed to wait until we were eighteen to feed, but we didn't do that either, now did we?" Mimi scowled and stomped away, eyes flashing darkly.

_Schuyler Van Alen, this is your fault_, she thought bitterly, before she threw herself onto her comfortingly fluffy bed and yanked out her phone. She dialed her personal shopper and demanded that she put aside the racks she'd chosen for Mimi.

Then Mimi got up, stared herself in the eye (with the help of her gold-framed mirror, that is) for a moment, then, satisfied with what she saw, turned away sharply and grabbed her credit card-filled purse. She stomped over to the elevator outside her bedroom and went downstairs.

The doorman had a cab waiting for her. Well, actually for Miss West, but the doorman saw the wicked gleam in Mimi's eye and let her take it, no questions asked and no glom needed.

She needed some serious shop therapy.

**A/N: FYI, glom is the mind-control thing. Nice, right? Totally. Well, R & R!**


	3. Pretty Little Problem

Mimi grinned as she flung open the door to her bedroom, her arms full of bulging, near-breaking shopping bags. Quickly, she dropped them on the floor and massaged her sore arms. Then she picked up two of the bags and headed into one of her closets.

"There's just no room in here," Mimi muttered, studying the room closely. Most girls would have called this room paradise, but Mimi called it one of her smaller closets. She stomped past the racks of crystal-encrusted gowns and delicately beaded purses with designers' initials stamped all over them. Then she went up the two stairs to her vanity. "Where am I supposed to put my stuff? There's no room to do anything in here!"

She sighed and dropped the bags, turning to walk away. She enjoyed the soft clicking of her heels as she walked along the marble floors in her vanity area, and the way she sunk into the carpet after she went down the steps. She stopped briefly to take of her heels and put them between her Manolo Blahnik wedges and her Signor Morrison kitten heels, smiling at her shoes with a mother's pride.

She felt happy, for the first time in days. Ever since Schuyler had moved in, the world had revolved around _her_. They ate when Schuyler wanted, the cooks made what Schuyler asked for, the seamstress hemmed all of Schuyler's clothes first. Schuyler had been given the big, luxurious room that Mimi had already claimed for her sleepovers. Schuyler sat at the head of the table, where Mimi had used to sit. And now? She'd been replaced. No way. That little vampire could go to hell.

Mimi bared her fangs, face contorted with anger. Then her face fell. Oh, no. Her fangs were getting dull. She picked up a Tweezerman nail file and filed her fangs, the same way a Red Blood would brush their teeth.

All of a sudden, Mimi felt her spirits sinking. She could almost hear the funeral music. Oh, wait, no, it was her phone ringing.

"Hello?" Mimi picked up.

"Mimi! Guess what?"

Mimi smiled again. It was Bliss Llewlyn, the girl who (just a few months ago) had been the new girl from Texas with the huge hair. Now, she was the adorable best friend of Mimi, not to mention Mimi's latest project. Mimi had transformed her into a fashion queen, and now the two ruled over everything.

"Mimi? You there?" Bliss sounded concerned.

"Yeah," Mimi said, snapping to reality.

"I said, 'Guess what?'" Bliss repeated.

"What?"

"I'm un-grounded!" Bliss squealed. "Two long months, and now I'm free!" There was a pause. "Oh, ow. Dizzy."

Mimi laughed. She knew Bliss so well, she could tell exactly what her friend was doing at that very moment based on her voice. "Well, maybe you shouldn't be spinning around your room."

"Not spinning," Bliss corrected. "Dancing."

"Okay, well, maybe you shouldn't be _dancing_ around your room." Mimi shook her head but smiled as she emerged from her closet and started trying to put away shirts in her "Casual" closet. She eventually gave up and flopped onto her bed, watching the canopy swirl around her.

"Maybe," Bliss agreed.

"So, you were saying…"

"That I'm un-grounded, and that means…"

"A PARTY!" Mimi squealed.

"Uh, I was thinking shopping, but okay." Bliss laughed. With Mimi, the answer to everything was a party.

"I'll organize everything," Mimi decided. "And it's gonna be so fun! We can do like, Midnight Masquerade. We can set up Central Park for the thing, and invite the whole school! And we can have a few different DJ's, so there's different music in different parts of the park. Oh, and boat rides on the lake! Yes, definitely. And a balloon arch, and live performers, ooooooh, maybe like Britney Spears? Girl's in the middle of a break-down, and yet she still sings fabulously! This is going to be such a ridiculous party!"

Mimi would have continued, but Bliss cut her off. "Actually, I was thinking a smaller party."

"Half of Central Park?"

"No," Bliss took in a deep breath. "Like, a house."

"Oh! An abandoned house! That's brill!" Mimi grinned.

"No…my house. Or, yours." Bliss sighed.

"Forget that! It's Central Park or nada, B," Mimi said, rolling her eyes. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

"Sure," Bliss said. "But…the last time you said that, I ended up grounded. That's why we're throwing this so-called party? To celebrate me being un-grounded? I don't really want to be…re-grounded."

"Stop being so worried! I promise, it'll be fine," Mimi exhaled, blowing into the phone.

"But how are you going to get Central Park?" Bliss wondered. "Isn't that a _public _park?"

"Not if your parents own it and, in a previous lifetime, you established it," Mimi said, and hung up.

She had planning to do.

000000

Mimi sat down next to the raging fire in her bedroom, settling into the princess divan chair by the warm glow. Curled inside her new purple cashmere Ralph Lauren blanket, she pulled her laptop off of a nearby table and onto her lap. She opened a new document and titled it **"PARTY PLANS!"**

Quickly, she settled on a theme: Masquerade ball. It would be like a flashback to her after-party from the Four Hundred Ball. That would bring up not only a new swell of popularity, it would call back her old popularity, too. Perfect. This one would be black-tie, too. And the masks were a must…but this one would be set in a more casual place. Central Park was perfect, because so many people's houses looked over it. If she excluded most of them, she realized that that would be that many more people who would gossip enviously about her party. The bigger the gossip tidal wave, the more Mimi could play off of it.

For the guest list, she began to put the most obvious ones first: herself, Bliss, Jack, Kirsten Goelet, Alexandra ("Lexie") Stewart, Oliver Barlow, Noelle Van Horn and her sister, Ariana Van Horn…

The list went on and on, detailing every single high-class Blue Blood family that was worth knowing. This wasn't like the 400 Ball, where every Blue Blood family had to be represented. People could be excluded.

And she knew one certain half-blood who wouldn't be on the list.


	4. Reality's Illusions

**A/N: Warning: This chap is extremely stupid. And emo. And, sort of a filler. But you may need it to understand parts of the story, so read it anyway! (:**

**I re-wrote it so it's a bit longer, and a songfic! (The lyrics actually ARE what mainly make it longer, though I fixed some spelling "issues" and added little bits of emo-osity…)**

**The song is "Prayer of The Refugee" by Rise Against. I love this song! I heart it on Guitar Hero 3, and absolutely fell in love. (I heart that game, even if I suck at it!)**

"No…" Bliss whispered. "Don't…go…"

A dark, shadowy figure turned halfway to look at her. It said nothing, only smiled sadly and shook its head. She could see its dark hair flopping around, but the figure's face was simply impossible to see. It was as blank, dark, and expressionless as a head-on silhouette. But with adorably floppy hair.

It was raining.

They weren't standing on anything, and everything was dark. The rain looked gray against the dark background, but it didn't splash against anything. It just kept heading down, until Bliss couldn't see it anymore. There was a faint light around the figure, but that was it. There was no ground that she could see, but she could feel the pavement on her bare feet as she took a daring step forward, even though every inch of her was screaming to run and never turn back.

"Please…" Bliss was saying. "Please…"

But the figure just shook its head again and walked away.

"Please…"

The figure stopped walking. It froze, with one long leg extended, mid-step.

Bliss looked up, ever hopeful. "Don't go…"

But the shadow flickered, and soon it had disappeared.

"No," she screamed, and reached out a hand towards what used to be.

It was all an illusion…

000000

Bliss shot up, screaming. "Don't go!"

_Don't hold me up, now,  
I can stand my own ground.  
I don't want your help now  
you'll just let me down…_

Then she looked around. Her window was open. There, at the end of her bed, was that a jacket? She crawled towards it and picked it up. Her fingers felt that the cold leather was wet, but the inside of it, the thick fabric lining, still held a trace of warmth. She knew this jacket. She recognized it. Her memory was calling up different events where she'd inhaled its fishy, sushi-like smell and thought, _I'm in heaven._

It was Dylan's.

_Warm yourself by the fire, child,  
and the morning will come soon.  
I'll tell you stories of a better time,  
in a place that we once knew…_

Dylan Ward. The Silver Blood who had almost taken her, but not by choice. A monster by force, not by choice. Why was his jacket here? Bliss frowned, staring into the darkness. What…was that footsteps? There…! She listened quietly, pulling her blanket up to her chin should she need to hide.

_Before we packed our bags  
and left all this behind us in the dust,  
we had a place that we could call home  
and a life no one could touch._

The house fell silent. She grew impatient. Putting he hands in her lap and letting the blanket fall, she sighed.

"Dylan?" she whispered.

She swore she heard the ghost of a chuckle, but it faded all too fast for her to be sure. But it was enough to send her shooting under the covers like a two-year-old.

But minutes later, she was peeking out. Slowly, she came back out, exposing just her head. She glanced around, eyes fully adjusted to the dark, and frowned at her own immaturity. She thought about how childish she was being. Infantile, even. Really. Hiding under the covers from the monster downstairs? Right. Totally mature. Emboldened, she cleared her throat.

_Don't hold me up now,  
__I can stand my own ground.  
__I don't need your help now,  
you'll just let me down…_

"Dylan?" she called again.

Again, the faded laugh. Out side in the hall, the grandfather clock chimed once. The moon shone at her through her open window. Shadows moved around her bedroom, leaping and dancing as the trees were blown around outside by the icy wind. The curtains blew in the wind, making her shiver. She got up and slammed the window shut, sighing impatiently. She was such a wimp sometimes!

Angry with herself, she curled into her bed again and muttered to herself, "God, B, you're going insane…"

But when the muffled laugh came again, she shot under the covers and just couldn't convince herself that she was hearing things. It wasn't working.

_We are the angry and the desperate,  
the hungry and the cold.  
We are the ones who kept quiet  
and always did as we were told._

Her house creaked a little, like it always did, but tonight it managed to scare her.

_But we've been sweating while you slept so calm  
in the safety of your home._

000000

When Bliss woke up in the morning, she was clinging to the leather jacket she'd found on her bed last night. The same one that the shadowy figure in her dream had been wearing. The same one she'd dreamed about ever since Dylan had gone missing, without even telling her who was harboring the Silver Bloods. He'd cried, "They're coming!" and fled through the window like her room was on fire. She'd heard voices for about an hour, but nobody came up the stairs and into her room.

_We've been pulling out the nails that hold up  
everything you've known._

Still, she'd been scared. Every creak, every tiny noise had scared her that night. She'd been a jumpy mess, and now the feeling was back, if not stronger.

Ugh.

She sighed softly and walked into her bathroom, the plush carpet silencing her footsteps. There was a crumpled note on her dresser, scribbled on a piece of her monogrammed stationary. Beside it, her purple ribbon-wrapped pen (the one with a big purple-dyed feather at the end) was hastily thrown to the side. Her hand hovered over the note, hesitating before she reached to grab it. She opened it, and her bright green eyes went wide. There, scribbled on her pink monogrammed stationary, in glittery purple ink, was the best thing she'd read in months. She squished her eyes shut and counted to ten before re-opening them to see if the note was real and not just a grocery list she was misreading.

It wasn't.

_So open your eyes child,  
let's be on our way.  
Broken windows and ashes  
are guiding the way._

_Wait for me_, it read it Dylan's messy writing. _I'll be back soon._

_Keep quiet no longer,  
we'll sing through the day  
of the lives that we've lost,  
and the lives we've reclaimed._

**A/N: Told ya. Emo. And short. Extremely. But hey, review anyway! Pweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeese? –smile-**


End file.
